Walking In The Shrubbery
by Darling Jane
Summary: Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley are the sweetest couple, and this story hopes to prove it. In P&P, when Lady Catherine de Bourgh unexpectedly arrives at Longbourn, Jane and Bingley, only recently engaged, go for a secluded walk. I invite you to join Jane and Charles on this intimate walk and beyond.
1. Chapter 1: Kissing In The Summer House

**Chapter 1**

 **Kissing In The Summer House**

 _One morning, about a week after Bingley's engagement with Jane had been formed, as he and the females of the family were sitting together in the dining room, their attention was suddenly drawn to the window, by the sound of a carriage... as it was certain... that somebody was coming, Bingley instantly prevailed on Miss Bennet to avoid the confinement of such an intrusion, and walk away with him into the shrubbery._ (Volume III, Chapter XIV of _Pride and Prejudice_ )

"Jane, care for a walk?" Charles whispered swift in her ear.

"Yes, please." She spoke quickly and quietly in reply – an instant private smile upon her lips.

"What lovely weather for a walk." Mr Bingley pronounced as casually and unnoticed as he could to the back of the women who stood gathered at the window. He took Jane's hand silently, and as silently began to back her and him out of the room.

"No one care to join us?"

His near-whispered question gained no reply – still the women muttered about who might be in the carriage. They were unaffected by his voice – their curiosity was unperturbed by common play conversation.

"No?" He said more to himself than the distracted room. "Then Miss Bennet and I will go and enjoy the sunshine?"

He glanced to the window – it did not look sunny. They were just to the door now, when Mrs Bennet picked up that Mr Bingley had been speaking. Without turning around, she asked loudly:

"What is that you say Mr Bingley? Know you who this is who comes?"

"Umm..."

Mr Bingley did not know what to reply. His plan was that no one would note their absence – this was not part of the plan. Luckily his lovely Jane came to the rescue.

"Mr Bingley says he does not recognise the carriage – "

"Oh, never mind then, Jane dear. Kitty, see if you can get a closer look – "

"Mr Bingley and I are going for a walk in the garden."

"Very nice, Jane dear."

Mrs Bennet waved her hand about, not taking in the words of her eldest daughter.

With that, the pair rushed out the room and, hearing a mumble on the other side of the front door, headed gleefully, with muffled laughter, to the back door.

But when a glad Charles opened the back door for his love, she halted a sudden, as the cool air hit her.

"Charles, my shoes!" She exclaimed, though as quiet as she could.

His eyes shot down. His Jane lifted her petticoat an inch to show her feet neatly coved in white bowed slippers – though charming, in no way suitable footwear for the great outdoors.

"I need my boots."

She went to go back, but then there was a knock heard on the front door and she halted her movements again.

"Ah! Umm..." Panicked Charles.

He looked about quickly. What to do? Then an idea struck him: without a word, he bent, and hooking one arm under her knees and placing one high on her back, swept Jane up into his arms. She let out a delicate squeak in response to this sudden elevation, before wrapping her arms around his neck.

With one large sideways step, Charles got them through the back door just in time – a servant now opening the front door to the mystery visitor. Jane quickly let go of Charles with one hand to reach and pull closed the door behind them. A moment of proof: they worked well as a team.

She swung her arm back up and around Charles' neck dotingly.

At last, their eye lines met again, and with this reunion of attention, they both let out the merry laugher they had barely contained indoors.

"Oh Charles," Said Jane in a perfect contented mixture of laughter and sigh. She gave him a sweet peck on the cheek.

"Mmm," Said Charles dreamily, his eyes closed. "I could get used to that."

Still he held her strongly in his arms. He stood in bliss.

"I'm glad." Jane said sweetly, with a gentle giggle that turned to gentle concern. "But wouldn't you like to put me down? Your arms must be getting tired."

"Nope," Replied Charles. He opened his eyes and looked lovingly into hers. "I'm never letting you go."

This time her rosy lips went not swift to his cheek but were tentative in approach to his own lips. Briefly but beautifully were their lips lightly united. All words vanished from mind and mouth.

"Mmm," He sighed again. Her lips tasted as sweet as summer strawberries.

He savoured her kiss, with eyes again closed, standing stationary with cradled love; then, as if awaking from the loveliest dream, at last flickered open his bright eyes – all the brighter for finding it not a dream. This was better than his dreams.

He smiled to Jane, an impish smile upon a dashing face.

"Where to, my love?" He asked gallantly.

Jane, with unconscious cuteness, lightly bit her bottom lip in thought; before brightness struck her own eyes, and she near sung her reply.

"Perhaps the summer house – we may sit quite dry there." And quite alone, she dared whisper in girlish thought.

"As you wish." Said Charles simply.

So towards the summer house he headed, carrying his Jane reverently within his strong arms.

He remembered the summer house: it was as a small sandstone sanctuary, with walls of whitewashed wooden panels, and curved benches in the same style. Its windows were numerous and its many panes as clear as clean cut crystal. He had dreamt of the secluded summer house.

He would not confess to the slight feeling of weariness that was creeping into his arms, as he strode through the shrubbery. No, his renewed speed was not to sooner put down his love, but to cause her to laugh so lightly at his larking, and distance themselves from the distracted figures they had just glanced entering the wilderness on the far side of the lawn.

They reached the summer house unseen and thankful of fate. For his labours, Jane praised her knight with a kiss, as she alighted from his tired arms.

"Thank you, Charles." Jane said as sweet as honey.

Intoxicated by her kisses, Charles hummed a quiet "Anytime"; then sat himself down next to his love in the closest proximity. Their shared thought: oh to sit like this forever.

"I wonder whom Lizzy walks with in the shrubbery." Spoke Jane.

Hers was a quieter curiosity than her mother's and sisters' had been in the dining room.

"I'm sure she will confide that to you later." Soothed Charles with a growing confidence.

He placed a hand delicately upon hers delicately joint.

"Yes" Jane replied, with a smile to thank her love.

And to thank him more, she began slowly interweaving her fingers with his, leaving tingling trails with her light fingertips.

"How perfectly your hands fit in mine." Sighed Charles, open with his love.

Such thoughts, once contained by Darcy or his sisters, he wished to share with his Jane, to give her cause now never to doubt his love. From this day on, he'd dedicate his life to this cause – to ensure her happiness.

"God is diligent in design." Replied unselfish Jane, moving the praise from herself onto another.

"Then I owe him great thanks." Said Charles.

To which Jane's response was quietly spoken.

"How will you thank him?" She asked.

She lowered her glance to their joint hands.

Charles paused. Was that coyness he just saw momentarily glisten within her innocent eyes?

He lifted a hand to her chin. Her eyes she raised instantly at this intimate contact. Charles found them alight.

"By leading a good life." Charles began. "By loving my neighbour."

Jane smiled bashfully.

He continued.

"Inquire you not which neighbour?" He asked his Jane – his innocent remark barely masking characteristic playfulness.

Sportingly and sweetly, she made the hinted to inquiry.

"Which neighbour will you love?" She asked, with fresh smile threatening to blossom from each corner of her rosebud mouth.

"Which neighbour do I love?" Made Charles playful correction.

"Which neighbour do you love?" Jane echoed accordingly.

Charles could not help his grin now.

"Why she whose feet are not suitably attired for walking –"

Jane's loving laughter rang like silver bells. This brief melody sung, before sobering with his increasingly earnest endearments.

He spoke quite quietly now.

"She whose tiny hands fit so perfectly in mine. Two perfect hands."

He traced his thumb delicately upon her palm.

Jane's eyes, filled with delight, flittered like summer butterflies, following Charles' movements like a flower does the sun.

"Two perfect eyes." He continued, as if never was a more certain fact.

He lifted his other hand back to her face – there to softly stroke the apple of her cheek, to dare trace the curves of her two lips.

"Two perfect lips." He whispered.

If the lovers' proximity was before questioned, let it now be confirmed by knowing that it took barely a blink's duration for Charles' lips to travel now to his love's; that their kiss was long begun before this sentence's end, but yet their kiss hardly begun and as yet without end.


	2. Chapter 2: A Ladies' Maid

**Chapter 2**

 **A Ladies' Maid**

So would say Jane to her lady's maid a week before her removal to Netherfield: "Oh that I could take you with me, Sarah, but I would not deny my mother and my sisters the honour of your generous service."

"Thank you kindly, miss." The honest Sarah's reply.

Sarah was more that a lady's maid, she was indeed a ladies' maid – for many years, along with Polly and Mrs Hill, she had served diligently all the Bennet females.

Sarah would miss the eldest Miss Bennet.

She thought of the girls almost as daughters, and though no mother should have favourites, she must admit that Jane was hers. The hems of Jane's petticoats were not routinely six inches deep in mud as were Elizabeth's, nor did she frequently demand hers clothes be altered so as to meet the latest fashions like Lydia and Kitty. And though Mary did not particularly add to the maid's household labours, the middle sister did not alas possess her eldest sister's pleasantness.

Like every other resident of Longbourn and Meryton, Sarah could not help but admire pleasant Jane, who Sarah truly believed never once possessed motive to deceive or displease in her life. Jane charmed all, yet almost unconsciously, driven by an ardent desire to treat everyone fairly.

It may surprise some to know that, whilst nature granted Jane the sweetest disposition, she also masked a mild melancholia.

Sarah was one of the few with knowledge of Jane's tears. When Mr Bingley left the neighbourhood last December, Sarah had overheard muffled weeping through Jane's bedchamber door during many a private hour. Still no solemn word passed Jane's lips – she continued to radiate sweetness.

Soon Jane replaced her nightly tears with prayer. She asked God that no one else should have cause to feel such sorrow, and to forgive those who had trespassed against her.

"They know not what they do." Sarah would hear Jane whisper.

Jane knelt at her bed, her eyes closed, her hands held in prayer. With her golden hair and pristine white nightgown, she resembled an angel.

When Jane had wept, Sarah, in her discretion, uttered not a word, but of a morn brought Jane cool cloths to restore her red eyes to an appearance of health.

When lavender, Jane's favourite flower, was in bloom, Sarah left fresh springs upon Jane's pillow, sending Jane into a calm restful sleep on nights when she might have otherwise cried.

Jane would always remember and be thankful for Sarah's little kindnesses.

Sarah watched Jane now from an upstairs window. This upper room Sarah cleaned and aired. With the window open, she had happened to hear a sweet laughter. Curious, she looked from the window to see Jane in the garden, held in the arms of that good-humoured Mr Bingley. Jane giggled again as Mr Bingley weaved them around the flowerbeds. The grinning pair appeared to be heading towards the summer house.

Sarah smiled at the sweet scene.

But she must return to her duties. After all, there were dresses to be altered and cleaned.


	3. Chapter 3: In A Pretty Little Wilderness

**Chapter 3**

 **In A Pretty Little Wilderness**

In a pretty little wilderness on the far side of the Longbourn estate, a great lady loudly lamented the potential pollution of a much finer estate's shades.

Although this shout was fortunately not overheard within the house, Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley's being some many yards closer meant their present pleasantries were alas interrupted. They were unwillingly privy to discord, yet could neither decipher the words exclaimed – not due to lack of volume, but that the pair's senses were at this time otherwise initially and much more pleasantly engaged.

"Oh Charles, that Lizzy might be distressed!" Cried sweet Jane.

"Fear not, my love." Said Charles. "Why, your sister can hold her own against even Darcy! She has nothing to fear from this stranger, and neither do you."

He hoped he'd reassured her.

"I think the visitor not a stranger to Lizzy." Replied Jane – her tone, as ever, soft but sure.

"A former acquaintance?"

"Indeed. I recall Lizzy's letters. Her recent travels to Kent and Derbyshire afforded her a few new acquaintances. She met a cousin of Darcy's, for example, and his aunt. Have you met either?" She asked Charles curiously.

"Darcy has many cousins, I believe," Answered Charles. "But I do have the fortune of knowing one, a Colonel FitzWilliam."

"Why that was the name of the gentleman Lizzy met in Kent!" Jane sweetly exclaimed.

The pair smiled like children over this coincidence of acquaintance.

"He is a fine fellow. Imagine Darcy but more jovial." Was Charles' playful description.

Jane laughed despite herself. Poor Mr Darcy, she wished he had cause to be jovial.

Charles was content. Due to his acts to reassure and cheer, his Jane's distress of only a minute before had faded, and been replaced by her delectable singsong laughter.

As thoughts of Elizabeth's possible distress returned to the forefront of Jane's mind, her laughter faded, yet Charles' care did not – he remained attentive to his love.

"But listen, my dear, what discord there may have been appears to have passed."

Jane listened, and found to her delight that her Lizzy was likely apart from the visitor and so away from threat, for the garden was quiet once more, save for a lovebird's song.

Jane heard willingly now its mate's sweet response. She compared herself with these small creatures. Unafraid they declared openly their love. How conscience she had been to mask the extent of her emotions last autumn – but no longer.

"How happy you make me, Charles! Your sentences have soothed me. I thank you."

Charles smiled. His reply was simple and sincere. He looked lovingly into his Jane's eyes as he spoke.

"You make me happy too – so much."

Neither believed they deserved such happiness; yet never was there a more deserving couple, for both were humble, and good-hearted to all God's creatures, even Charles' sisters, and Darcy when he was in one of his moods.

All this while, the closeness of the couple's bodies never lessened. They remained in the summer house, in the garden of the Longbourn estate, curled up together on a secluded bench. Jane's delicate hands remained nestled in Charles's larger hands, except for when he would stroke her cheek or brush away a single golden curl that, in her distress for Lizzy, had come loose from her bun.

In fact, the pair's closeness only increased, as their own words gave now cause to reunite their lips. And as increased their closeness, increased their bliss.


	4. Chapter 4: Sisterly Inattention

**Chapter 4**

 **Sisterly Inattention**

Mrs Bennet met Elizabeth at the door of the dressing room, when the latter returned indoors from her parley with Lady Catherine. The mother made inquiry of the great lady, to which the daughter gave little reply; yet Mrs Bennet was satisfied enough with her own presumption that Lady Catherine's was but a passing visit.

Due to the morning's novelty, even Elizabeth, quick of mind as she normally was, failed to note the absence of her favourite sister – as was the extent she had truly been affected by Lady Catherine's visit.

Elizabeth sought solitude in her bedchamber; sanctuary from her mother and Kitty, who were presently instructing Sally on the necessary alterations some perfectly adequate gown apparently required; sanctuary from Mary, whose repetitive piano-playing she could hear resonating from the drawing room.

She gave little thought to Jane and Mr Bingley, but to briefly picture them sat together in front of the hearth, with Mary acting as indifferent chaperone. If Mary's playing did not disturb their long-awaited tranquillity, then she had no desire to.

But Jane and Charles were not in the drawing room, they were not even in the house. As the reader is aware, they were sat together in the summer house, quite a bit closer than Elizabeth pictured, and quite without a chaperone!

Kisses, each less bashfully given, presently peppered each face. And bloomed like roses, their lips and cheeks, to ornament their Eden.

Still in slivered small worry.

"Charles, that we could sit here forever, but I'm afeared my family may soon note our absence." Sighed Jane. It took great effort to steal herself from Charles' lips.

"Jane" He soothed. "Why your mother and sisters were too preoccupied with the identity of the visitor to register our leaving the drawing room. Let's have hope that they are preoccupied still."

"But Lizzy at least must have realised –"

"Then her realisation would be accompanied by an eye-roll, but left unspoken. Is it not so?" Charles teased good-heartedly.

Jane lightly bit her bottom lip to hide her smile, though she made a small nod.

Dear Charles! She thought. Whilst he thought on her sweetness.

For this, Charles could not help but kiss her again; but this time Jane giggled, for he placed the peck right upon the end of her nose; then wiggled their noses together.

"Charles!" She sweetly squealed.

He would never get over Jane using his Christian name. Each utterance sent a rush of happiness to his helpless heart.

His was an acheless grin, a pinkened face.

"Charles" She spoke with regained serenity. "When we are married –"

"I look forward to it immensely." Charles interrupted with a grin.

Jane smiled.

She gave him a quick kiss to his cheek, before recommencing.

"When we are married, will we be as we are now?"

"I would willingly be so for eternity." Replied Charles honestly.

"And as happy?"

"More so."

He kissed hers lips, languid and loving; so deepened Jane's lips from rose to rouge.

Jane felt like she had drunken wine.

When their lips finally parted, Charles lamented, though with a hint of play:

"I'm just sorry, for such pleasant activities as these, that Netherfield does not have a summer house of its own."


	5. Chapter 5: Memories of Meryton Assembly

**Chapter 5**

 **Memories of Meryton Assembly**

Though our lovers were seated within a summer house, the season was in fact autumn: golden leaves strewed the path that Charles, with Jane in arms, had trod; and each breeze caused dozens more to spiral to the trodden ground. It was not the kind of day to be out-of-doors without a redingote or boots, as was Jane.

Jane could almost forget the cold, for to be warmed by her dear Charles' embrace. She tried to ignore the goose pimples upon her forearms; instead she chose to relish the heat of the arms holding her tight.

Charles' kisses had set her face aflame; yet her white slippers were as shoes of snow to her small feet, and try as she might, she could not suppress small shiver.

"My Jane, are you cold?" Asked Charles concerned.

"Perhaps a little." Jane admitted.

With such instant care, Charles then acted: he removed his arms from around his love, took off his dark blue coat and placed it upon Jane's shoulders.

"There." He said. "All better."

"Thank you, Charles, you're very kind." Said Jane gratefully, warmed by his coat and kindness. "But won't you get cold now?"

"Tis of no concern." He stated, concentrating on his love.

"It is to me." She affirmed with sweet surety.

Charles smiled at his Jane. Hers was an unfaltering kind-heartedness unique to herself.

"Good lady," He said. "Your kindness warms my heart."

Jane kissed her love for his own kindness. She cupped his face with her small hands, and brought her lips to his, so to place honeyed caress; to cherish her love.

Charles' arms recaptured her and held her tight, his own madonna swathed in the blue of his coat.

"Mmm" Said Charles content.

Though their lips parted, their foreheads touched, as breaths were regained.

At last Jane leant back and looked at Charles. She had never seen Charles without a coat on before. Sat before her in white shirt and waistcoat, his head adorned with golden curls, it stuck her how angelic, how apollonian he appeared.

She suddenly remembered first seeing him.

The Meryton assembly had been bustling. Merriment combined headily with anticipation, as all awaited – some rather impatiently – for the entrance of the Netherfield party.

Local gossip had labelled Mr Bingley as handsome, but when he entered the busy room, Jane was ill-prepared for the affect he would have and long continue to have upon herself.

Here was the most good-humoured gentleman, kind and lively.

His smile has stuck her first, for he smiled not just widely with his mouth but with his eyes too; and the obvious comparison with his stoic-looking friend, only sought to increase his happy appearance.

How she had gushed to Lizzy in confidence about him later that same night. She ought to have been tired, for it was late and she had danced all evening – twice with Mr Bingley himself – but she felt wide awake; she was elated.

Now holding her was the same dear man, and she felt the same elation.

"What are you thinking of, my love?" Charles asked, curious of the cause of her silence and smile.

"Of you." Jane replied.

Charles' own smile widened.

"And of when we first met."

"That night I will forever be thankful for." Effused Charles. "Forever thankful for every day – and night – spent with you."

Jane blushed.

She spoke softly in admission:

"I think I loved you even then."

Charles stroked gently her cheek.

"And I you." He said honestly; then chuckled at remembrance, which he now related.

"It felt like a visitation, when I first saw you going down the dance – I was so struck by you. Poor Miss Lucas, I believe I stood on her toes and hardly gave a look her way. All through the dance, I craned my neck in attempt to catch further glances of you. I could hardly move my neck the next day, for which my sisters' teased me."

Jane, in her tenderness, moved her hand down from his face to his neck, to stroke away the long ago pain.

Charles continued:

"But I did not mind their teasing. I was too happy to mind, for the night before I had danced with an angel."

Jane beamed at his loving words.

"Indeed, danced twice if I remember correctly." He added.

Jane giggled.

"Yes, indeed. Nothing made mamma happier that evening."

"And you?" Asked Charles.

"And me." Jane professed with a smile. "Would that everyone could be as happy."


	6. Chapter 6: Happiness Interrupted

**Chapter 6**

 **Happiness Interrupted**

Elizabeth Bennet was not happy. In fact, though now calmer, she hardly knew how else she felt.

She had retreated to her bedchamber in hope of disentangling the questions which whirled within her mind, the feelings which hung heavy in her heart.

Yet this form of solitude brought Elizabeth little rest. She needed the fresh air and exercise only walking out-of-doors could supply. She thrived outside, untamed.

On the back of her chair hung an Indian shawl. Elizabeth unceremoniously grabbed the shawl, spun it around her shoulders, and headed out to the garden.

She would walk not to the wilderness where she had argued with Lady Catherine – that location would only serve to rattle her spirits – but to the other side of the garden, and perhaps beyond, past the summer house where Jane loved to sit, and up towards Oakham Mount. There she might look down over the landscape – over Longbourn village and farther Meryton, with Netherfield in the far distance.

Elizabeth stepped from the back door. The breeze ruffled her hair like the feathers of a linnet's wing. Although the air was cool, Elizabeth's shawl was thick and she wrapped it tightly around herself. Soon exercise would warm her through, but for now Elizabeth welcomed the cold, for it distracted and refreshed.

She strode along the leaf-covered path, in boots and in thoughts. One person dominated her thoughts: not Lady Catherine, but her nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Little did Elizabeth expect now to spy that gentleman's best friend, Charles Bingley, as she approached near the summer house.

She stopped her steps. The moment's novelty sprung thoughts of Mr Darcy from her mind – for now – for not only was Mr Bingley in their summer house, he was without his coat.

Where was his coat? Elizabeth craned her neck and saw it now, wrapped around the shoulders of her sister! As were Bingley's arms!

Elizabeth smirked. If she were to relate the scene before her to the town, not one person would believe it of Miss Bennet. Elizabeth had once overheard Mr Bingley call Jane an angel – so everyone believed her to be.

But here before Elizabeth's eyes was Jane, alone with her lover, out on an October morning without chaperone, redingote or shawl.

But oh how happy Jane looked; how happy both looked.

If only I could find such happiness, thought Elizabeth.

She recalled Jane's words of days before:

 _"_ _If I could see you as happy!"_ She had sweetly exclaimed.

Elizabeth shared her sister's sentiment.

She remembered her own words:

 _"_ _Till I have you disposition, your goodness, I never can have your happiness."_

Was such true?

So was another question added to her query-full mind, which she had journeyed outside to quell.

From mind to body, she now purposely shifted her focus. Her hope: to pass the summer house unseen.

Jane and Mr Bingley appeared engaged – as if they were the only two people on earth. She had pried enough on their intimacy. If Jane wished to share her heart, she would confide in her later. She would not deny her dear sister her right.

Elizabeth moved her eyes from the summer house to the winding path before her, and made to recommence her steps, as quickly yet as quietly as she could.

She had travelled but two yards, when she was startled by a voice calling her. It was Jane's.

"Lizzy!" She sung.

Elizabeth turned. There was Jane stood in the entrance of the summer house, still wrapped in Bingley's coat. It was an endearing image, Elizabeth thought: Jane resembled a small child in hand-me-downs.

Elizabeth stepped towards her sister.

Jane spoke again.

"Oh Lizzy, might you – would you say I have been walking with you? Oh I would not cause you to lie, yet – "

Jane knew not how to continue. That she was asking her sister to commit a falsehood, no matter how small, pained her childlike heart.

Elizabeth saw her sister's distress and reached a hand to hers.

She then made a suggestion.

"Why do you not walk with me, _both of you_?" She tilted her head to the summer house, from where Charles now appeared, as pink-cheeked as her sister.

"The exercise will keep you warm." She added.

Elizabeth's amusement brought back the brightness to her eyes.

"But Lizzy," Said a worried Jane. "I am without my boots."

Elizabeth laughed.

"You will not mind one more minute alone, for me to return to the house to fetch your boots and a shawl."

Jane smiled, soothed.

"Thank you, dear Lizzy." She said, and hugged her favourite sister.

So we return with Elizabeth to the house, leaving Jane and Charles one final moment of seclusion. They will have many more in time; still it felt like the end of their world. How many days would they have to endure without true intimacy? One? Two? Such minute separation is unbearable to lovers.


	7. Chapter 7: Oddly Attired

**Chapter 7**

 **Oddly Attired**

Elizabeth soon found Jane's boots and a shawl; and, with the maid's assistance, procured Mr Bingley's top hat and overcoat.

Rather than carry all the objects, she put Jane's shawl on over her own, shrugged on Mr Bingley overcoat, and placed his hat upon her head. This made the young maid, Polly, giggle.

Happened that Mr Bennet opened his study door, just as Elizabeth, overdressed so, was walking along the hall on her way to the garden

"Elizabeth?" Mr Bennet questioned.

Although his voice was unruffled, he raised an eyebrow at his daughter's appearance.

"Father" Was all Elizabeth said in response.

For Mr Bennet, this would have to suffice, as Elizabeth offered no tell, no wink or smirk, but continued on her way, assured that, though her father may tease her later, the quaintness of her behaviour would remain only with him. If her mother had come upon her, within hours every neighbour would have heard rumour of the second Miss Bennet's peculiarity.

Mr Bennet chuckled to himself as he re-entered his study. What was his daughter up to?

Meanwhile, our lovers stood together in front of the summer house.

Charles cradled Jane's face in his hands, and worshipped her with kiss upon kiss. His ardency, his adoration overwhelmed her senses.

"Oh Charles" Jane cooed.

"Oh Jane" Replied her love. "I love you so."

Between each word he placed another peck upon her face.

"And I you." She sighed.

So they remained, amoured, until hearing a loud cough, they jumped apart.

There, smirking at them, stood Elizabeth. They took in her appearance.

"Miss Elizabeth, my hat suits you." Said Charles playfully.

"As does your coat my sister." She replied.

Jane blushed at her words.

Elizabeth handed her her boots.

"Thank you, Lizzy." She said.

"And I've got a shawl on under here for you too." Added Elizabeth.

"It was very good of you to fetch all this, Lizzy." Said Jane earnestly.

"Yes, it was very good of you, Miss Elizabeth." Affirmed Charles.

Elizabeth waved away their praise.

The trio dressed within the summer house; so was normal attire restored. The only point that might require explanation to others: why had Jane brought her house slippers with her on a walk? Elizabeth suggested she leave them in the summer house, and retrieve them on their return home, to which plan Jane agreed.

So set off Charles, Jane and Elizabeth on their way to Oakham Mount, the latter marching up front, the lovers ambling behind, leaving Longbourn summer house, the setting of such newfound intimacy, silent once more; empty but for a pair of bowed white slippers.


	8. Chapter 8: Forgiveness

**Chapter 8**

 **Forgiveness**

The view afforded from Oakham Mount lifted the spirit. Stood on that emerald turf, one felt on top of the world.

Stood there now was Elizabeth Bennet, as she had so often before. The setting gave her a sense of freedom.

Farther down the hillside, hand-in-hand, walked Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley. Whilst Elizabeth had marched up the hill like one of the grand old duke's men; this couple's pace was leisurely.

They conversed as they walked.

"Why have we never walked this way before?" Inquired Charles.

Jane thought before replying.

"My mother and younger sisters seldom suggest this route, for it takes one in the opposite direction from Longbourn, from Lucas Lodge, Meryton, and Netherfield. They'd say it heads away from civilisation. Yet for that reason, Lizzy adores it. She may be free on Oakham Mount."

"Yet I have never heard Miss Elizabeth recommend it." Said Charles.

"Lizzy often takes her walks alone, or sometimes with our father. I believe nature is her sanctuary, as our father's study is his."

She looked to her love.

"Would you invite many into your sanctuary?"

"But a few." Answered Charles, before adding with a smile: "I would invite you."

Jane smiled in response, and gently squeezed the hand of his she held.

"She does us a great honour in inviting us with her this morning." Said Jane.

She gazed up the hill to where her sister must somewhere be. Though out of sight, Elizabeth remained in Jane's heart.

"It is a testament to your closeness as sisters, I think." Said Charles.

"It is a testament to you too." Effused Jane earnestly.

"To me?" Asked Charles.

"Lizzy likes you, Charles."

"I like her too." Charles smiled. "But I like you more." He added, and placed a kiss to Jane's cheek.

"Charles" Said Jane, smiling wide.

"That my family was as close as yours." Charles wished.

"Your sisters love you, Charles." Said Jane.

"Yes, but they did not welcome you as they ought." Replied Charles.

He was a mild man, but this point still pained him.

"I forgive them, Charles." Said Jane sweetly. "Do try to too." She encouraged.

"My Jane, my sweet forgiving Jane." Cooed Charles. "I will try, for you."

For that, she paused her steps.

"Jane?" Charles began, stopping too, before his love raised herself onto her tiptoes to place a cherried kiss upon his lips.

He was awestruck by this woman. Instantly he wrapped his arms around her, deepening their kiss.

Eventually they separated, dazed.

"Lizzy will wonder where we are at." Said Jane, with airless voice.

And what we are at, thought Charles with a chuckle; though Miss Elizabeth, bright as she is, probably already knows. She will raise an eyebrow, when we reach her no doubt.

He reached again for Jane's hand, and interweaved their fingers.

"I love you." He again professed.

"I love you too." Echoed Jane.

And off they set again up Oakham Mount, a couple most content.


	9. Chapter 9: On Oakham Mount

**Chapter 9**

 **On Oakham Mount**

Silently Elizabeth Bennet looked upon the harvested Hertfordshire landscape.

She sighed; then turned as a couple approached.

At last Mr Bingley and her sister rejoined her. She smiled to them.

"Miss Bennet" Called a grinning Charles Bingley. "We reach you at last."

"Mr Bingley" Elizabeth replied in greeting. "Jane"

Although Elizabeth now expressed a hope they enjoyed the walk, Charles was surprised she made no comment on their dawdling. He looked to his love, and saw small concern flicker in her eyes.

Jane spoke softly to her sister, yet with a smile:

"Look, Lizzy, I shan't be far away at all."

She pointed to Netherfield House.

"But three miles, you see."

Jane hoped the reminded proximity would comfort.

"Indeed, you may walk it." Added Charles, remembering when Elizabeth had walked there those months ago, when Jane had been ill.

Elizabeth remembered the event too.

That the next time I walk to Netherfield may have a happier cause, not to be nurse, but –

"To pay call to Mr and Mrs Charles Bingley." Said Elizabeth.

At this happier thought, she began to smile; a certain brightness returning to her eyes.

Her words made the couple blush. They looked to the ground, then back up to each other, bashfully.

Charles recovered his merriment.

"You will always be welcome at Netherfield, Miss Elizabeth Bennet." He said with characteristic good-heartedness.

He looked to his Jane again, who nodded.

"Such is the shared sentiment of its master and mistress."

He gave a gentle squeeze to Jane's hand as he spoke.

Elizabeth smiled again at the happy couple.

"Never was a happier couple." She teased.

Though Elizabeth smiled, her eyes dimmed. She might too have been mistress to an estate; might have known such happiness. Might she yet?

She was about to brush aside such thoughts, when Jane reached for her.

Jane linked her arm with hers, and answered her unuttered question.

"You will find your happiness, Lizzy." She sweetly smoothed.

Elizabeth had jested before of settling for a brother of Mr Collins, or of being a maiden aunt and teaching Jane's children to play piano, but Jane saw neither as Elizabeth's future.

Jane's own happiness had reinforced her belief in happy endings. She was determinedly hopeful; stubbornly sweet. She would have everyone as happy as herself, including her Lizzy.

Charles looked at the two sisters, stood arm-in-arm as they were now. He compared Jane and Elizabeth with his own sisters.

Louisa and Caroline teased together, played cards together, went off to school together; yet moments of sisterly support like this he seldom saw between them.

Stood beside him now, in shawls, their curls dancing in the breeze, were comfort and care personified.

He smiled. Once he married Jane, he would have six sisters. One could not find a prouder brother.

"When I first came to Hertfordshire, I heard rumour of the eldest two Bennet sister's beauty." Commented Charles. "The first is to be my wife, the second my sister – I am the luckiest man in the county."

At his giddy pronouncement, Jane blushed beautifully, whilst Elizabeth seemed to regain her usual playfulness.

"Sir, you misstate, you ought to have said luckiest in the country."

Charles laughed.

"You are right, Miss Elizabeth. Find me a luckier man, and I will eat my hat."

His silliness made his Jane laugh.

With the two people she loved most in the world, who got on so well, Jane felt the luckiest woman, the most content creature on God's earth, and comfortable enough to join in. Her eyes twinkled, as she spoke.

"But then Lizzy will not have the pleasure again of borrowing it."

Rarely did Jane tease, even good-heartedly, for hers was a sincere soul. To witness Jane and Charles' private playfulness warmed Elizabeth's heart.

"Jane, think you I should make a hobby of wearing your husband's hat?" Elizabeth responded with love and raised brow.

Charles smiled at the sisters' liveliness, smiled at being referred to as his Jane's husband.

At her sister's words, Jane laughed again, her sweet birdsong laughter.

"Hat or no hat, I hope you'll have me." Whispered Charles to his Jane.

Her laughter abated, and she looked into his sky-blue eyes, as she made her reply – a whispered promise.

"I will."

So sweetly and sincerely were these two small words spoken. Overhearing them, Elizabeth smiled; but, when after an appropriate amount of time the lovers' gaze failed to part, to merry laughter turned her smiles.

"I see if I don't return you both to the house soon, you will never return of your own accord, but spend the rest of your life on Oakham Mount, gazing into each other's eyes."


	10. Chapter 10: Family

**Chapter 10**

 **Family**

As our trio returned to Longbourn House, its other inhabitants were in their usual positions: Mr Bennet was steadfast in his study, Mary studied at the piano, and Mrs Bennet was in her dressing room. All were predictably placed bar Kitty.

Since Lydia's removal, Kitty had been unsettled. In childhood, she had gradually grown dependant on her more wilful younger sister. Lydia had always fuelled their girlish jaunts and games. Now Kitty was a young woman, suddenly without playmate or guidance.

She sat now on a window seat, abandoned embroidery on her lap.

Her mother had retired for a rest, tired from instructing Kitty and the maid how best – in her opinion – to imitate the latest fashions. Kitty was herself thankful for the rest. With Mr Bingley's eager early arrival, then Lady Catherine de Bourgh's, it had been a busy morning even before breakfast's end.

Kitty looked out from her window, out on the garden, and hills and fields beyond; and saw three figures heading towards the house. Even from afar, Kitty could make out their identities – they were that of her eldest two sisters and Mr Bingley. It appeared they were returning from a walk. She would wave to them, when they got nearer, but for now she simply watched them. She watched as Mr Bingley took her eldest sister's hand, and stole kisses, when Elizabeth's head was turned. She watched as Jane blushed, and Lizzy smirked. This play amused and cheered Kitty, and she laughed lightly at her contrary sisters.

Immersed so, the trio failed to notice Kitty waving from her window.

They entered via the back door, refreshed from their outing.

How warm the hall felt in comparison to the great outdoors. Charles took of his hat, from which he brushed off a few small leafs.

"What a lovely walk!" Praised Charles.

"You liked the location?" Asked Elizabeth.

"Yes, and my company." Replied Charles, looking to Jane.

He removed his overcoat and passed it to a servant.

"I believe Luncheon may be soon – " Noted Jane.

"You will join us of course, Mr Bingley." Added her sister.

"Gladly" His merry reply.

The reader will be glad to know that a merry luncheon was soon had. Thoughts of absent sisters and lovers were put on hold, as mutton was eaten, wine drunk, and the happy couple celebrated.

At the table, Mr Bennet whispered to his favourite daughter.

"Am I papa no longer and father now?"

He referred to her one word greeting to him in the hall earlier that morning, when Elizabeth had donned Mr Bingley's hat and overcoat.

With twinkling eyes, he continued.

"Though I saw through it, it was quite a fetching disguise you wore. Is Mr Bingley gifting out his clothes now?"

"Only to his favourite new sister." Elizabeth replied.

"Then I hope he procures something special for his father-in-law."

"He has already, sir," She looked to Jane. "His daughter's happiness."

Mr Bennet smiled in content defeat.

"Then I will overlook his odder gift-giving."

"Thank you, papa." Said a grateful Lizzy, and gave a kiss to his cheek.

How different was the luncheon had by Fitzwilliam Darcy that day. It was taken alone in his London residence. A sober affair conducted between two business meetings.

His sister was at Pemberley. The house felt dormant without her piano-playing.

Meanwhile Mary Bennet's earnest tinkerings soon recommenced and animated Longbourn, as at Kitty's request and Mrs Bennet's insistence, she reluctantly played a jig after luncheon.

Jane, Charles, Kitty and Elizabeth danced to Mrs Bennet's delight.

Laughing and dancing with her elder sisters now, Kitty felt included. Her youthfulness, which some looked down upon, was utilised in dancing to a pretty effect.

Uncharacteristically Mr Bennet did not make instant retreat to his study after luncheon. Instead, he sat with his wife.

For once this contrary couple were of one mind: they watched their pretty daughters and future son-in-law with pride.


	11. Chapter 11: His Angel

**Chapter 11**

 **His Angel**

Although Charles Bingley danced now with three Bennet sisters, only one filled his thoughts – that of his Jane.

She innocently infiltrated his everything.

Her house slippers they had rescued from the summer house; now she danced daintily in them, twirling and skipping. She appeared to float, to glide, to fly about him. To him, she was simply an angel.

He had found her to be an angel, when first they had danced together at the Meryton assembly; had declared such to Darcy and his sisters later that same evening.

He would always remember that night. He hardly slept for thought of her. He closed his eyes and he saw her face framed by her golden curls. The visitant smiled to him and he smiled. In this way, he spent many nights, gazing and smiling at Miss Bennet.

During those months he spent away in London, his mindly angel did not fade in brightness, but Charles could no longer smile at her image. His closest friend and sisters had laid it clear in front of him: Jane Bennet was not his, nor could she be his. The apparition became no longer what could be, but what might have been.

Through that time, Charles continued to present the cheerful persona expected of him, best he could, though inside he felt an ache that would not leave him.

Nothing had ever affected him as acutely but the loss he felt upon first his mother's and then his father's death. Yet even these events, so personal, he recovered from sooner.

The elasticity of adolescence admitted him to bounce back from parting with a mother, though adored, barely enjoyed in a boyhood spent primarily away at public school.

He felt his mother would have liked his Jane, for both were kind of heart.

Business sent his father away more often than education sent Charles to school and then Cambridge. To Charles, he was a man revered but removed, whose decline and death coincided with Charles' last term at the university. This left Charles, at one-and-twenty, both man and master, and with a freedom not before experienced.

But no freedom, in country or town, could diminish the ache he felt those months separated from Jane. No ball or book, ride or walk would shift it. It felt like a stone in one's shoe or a lump in one's throat, expect stuck deep in his chest, only to be removed when reunited with his Jane.

Jane, forevermore his Jane. She danced with him now. Her golden curls bounced and her laugher rang angelic with every turn and skip. And Charles felt he held heaven in his hands.

"My angel."

Was such sighed or whispered to his love? To Jane, it was as fairy dust – his words lifted her spirits above earthly feeling.

With a turn, she caught his eyes, and mouthed a bashful "Charles!" before turning again as the music implied.

Two aching steps and she reached for his hand; and with the touch, reunited their eyes. She smiled to him, and he to her, as they had done so often in his dreams and in hers. But this was not a dream. This was real.

This was love.


	12. Chapter 12: An Unexpected Visitor

_Author's Note: Firstly I'd like the apologise for the lateness of this next chapter. Life got a little in the way. Still I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to all those who have read and continue to read the story. xx_

 **Chapter 12**

 **An Unexpected Visitor**

Whilst Charles Bingley danced merrily in the drawing room at Longbourn House, his best friend was less happily situated: Fitzwilliam Darcy sat restless at his writing desk and stared at the unattractive London landscape outside his window.

He had remained over a week dissatisfied with his last conversation with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Over an empty coffee cup, they had talked civilly of his sister; then ill-timed business had called him away to London for ten days.

All he had done in regards to Lydia, and reuniting Charles and Miss Bennet, had been to positively affect her opinion of him. Alas, due to their separation, he was ignorant as to any effect. Or was there none? Did she still think so lowly of he who thought so highly of her?

He was agitated by unsurety, which made him ill company. He kept himself to his study. There, he attempted to finish up his business with some semblance of attention, for soon he was determined to return to Hertfordshire.

The study was silent, except for his own scribblings and distracted sighs; so, when came a loud series of knocks at the door, Darcy quite jumped. Believing the house empty but for himself and a few servants, who knew their master well enough not to disturb him, he was off guard; this, combined with his present preoccupation with Elizabeth Bennet, accounted for his uncharacteristic reaction.

He acted to recover himself: he repositioned himself more stately in his chair and was about to utter a masterly reply, when the door swung open and the unexpected and imposing person of his Aunt de Bourgh forced her way into the room.

"Leave us!" She barked at an apologetic servant, who had brought the lady to his master and who was now backing quickly out of the room.

"Nephew" Addressed she with a condescending air, when the door was closed.

"Lady Catherine." He replied, with feigned civility towards such uncivil intrusion.

"I am just returned from a most unpleasing visit."

She was proud but ruffled. After a pause, she made such pronouncement:

"I will be plain, Darcy. Elizabeth Bennet is the most obstinate girl."

"Elizabeth Bennet?" Queried Darcy. Her name was the last he expected to hear.

"I paid visit to Miss Bennet this morning having learnt of the most insupportable rumour that I was desirous to have squashed. A rumour that you, nephew, were engaged to said lady! I now know she hardly deserves such a title, having proved herself, in our exchange, to be a proud and insolent girl, unworthy of condescension."

Ill-temper etched itself upon Darcy's brow; yet he held his tongue, as Lady Catherine continued:

"For, although the young madam eventually admitted that she was not engaged to you, she refused to deny ever being such in the future!"

Darcy coloured slightly.

"Now, nephew, I come here to guard you against this woman – an association with whom, her younger sister's famed misconduct alone, warrants abhorrent. Of course I know you too well, Darcy –"

She praised herself.

"– to think you would enter into such an ill-advised engagement, especially when you know the dearest wish of myself and your own mother."

She continued on, never directly mentioning the long expected engagement between her daughter and Mr Darcy, yet ever and pressingly alluding to it.

Whilst in silence he stayed in response to her monologue, one admission of hers echoed in his mind: Elizabeth, dearest loveliest Elizabeth had refused to yield to his aunt; she had refused to agree that she would never be engaged to him. He wondered now:

"Do I yet have leave to hope?"

The possibly of such fresh hope lightened his initial ill-humour and kept him outwardly sensible in his Aunt de Bourgh's undesired presence; still he hoped she would made her leave as swift as her arrival had been.

Soon, though not soon enough, Lady Catherine took her leave, with announcement that London was insufficient to the country in every respectable aspect, and an unsubtle reminder to Darcy to best remember all her words. She would remain at her own townhouse for only the night; then travel on to Kent the next morning, where she would do her duty by correcting her curate and his wife that such an unfortunate rumour as they had heard had no foundation, but that they were never to invite Miss Elizabeth Bennet to visit again – she was neither welcome nor worthy of her presence.

At last, the grand lady gone, Darcy slumped back in his chair. He did not look out the window to see her carriage drive away. Instead, he sighed and, allowing himself to ignore his pressing papers for a while, soothed his soul and brow with thought of Elizabeth. He pictured her fine eyes, and smiled at the remembrance of her wit; and with renewed freedom, for, with her opposition to his aunt, she had given him hope.


End file.
